


Bloodborne dabbles

by Pharaoh362



Series: Dabble dumps! [8]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gay Character, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pharaoh362/pseuds/Pharaoh362
Summary: There is no pattern, this is just a collection of dabbles that I have no room for and don't have the heart to get rid of. So, here they mostly are. there WILL be many broken ideas/unfinished pieces. This is just the story dump so doesn't matter! There is no particular fandom.I'd also like to add that if there is a paring or prompt you like to see with the characters or my own OC's then I would be happy to consider writing it :)This is a very NSFW post, there are a lot of sexual situations, few non-consensual and particular violence. Please be advised before reading. I don't want to hurt anyone, or cause stress! Read at own risk. You have been warned.





	1. Michael dabbles 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original male character/ original male character
> 
> My cute gays

Michael was a patient man, some would call him boring, brooding. In truth he was just quiet, careful. Michael did not believe in wasting words on things that didn’t matter.

  
Michael spared a few words to the doll, whether or not she noticed was another question. Michael would return, peck her cheek and politely ask her how the day has been. Other hunters had heard him and whispered how it was the first they ever heard him speak.

  
Michael would silently roll his eyes and be on his way. Before all of this, before the hunt and the sunrise he believed his life would carry him no where. That it would be forever quiet.

  
At first noises shocked him. Michael came to Yharnam on a whim and whisper of an actual cure for his deaf ears and blind eyes. The first thing he heard was a snarling, terrible noise. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the clinic.

  
Ever since he has been called a hunter.

The pale eyed hunter, the soundless hunter.

And, after killing and beheading a creature of the moon, The great hunter.

  
Michael put no stalk into his new titles. The first hunter had given him an option to die and be born into sunrise, but Michael refused and killed him. Small parts regretted doing so. The world around him did find its sunrise again, but at night the plague became worse.

Should he have killed the old hunter? Should he have killed the moon presence? Michael did not know.

  
Michael wonders still, even as he sits precariously atop a roof, looking down at the people who cannot be bothered to see him. Michael draws his cap down, closing his eyes as the sun leaks into the ground. Nightfall was soon approaching.

The hunt continues.

  
Michael met many other hunters, most didn’t like him. Said he didn’t leave anything fun for anyone else. Most of what hunters did here now was street clean up. Michael prefers it to fighting giant beasts that only have minds to crush him.

The ones that complained weren’t the very important ones unfortunately. Anyone who was anyone would be under Yharnam, the dungeons were full of terrifying traps and creatures.

Michael stopped going down after he met Queen Yharnam. one thing about being blind was he never had to see something so bone-chillingly horrifying.

Her face was ghastly, her screams were like chruch bells banging in his brain and the babies cries made Michael’s chest hurt.

Now the great hunter spends his time watching the ruined cobblestone streets and reading.

Being able to see and hear was marvellous, unlike all other things. Michael was born without either sight and hearing. If he wasn’t the first born of a noble family his father would have left him to die.

Michael made do with touching things and smelling. Mother was loving and his father-  
Michael did not know what his father felt. Half his perception was stunted and all he could do was hope his father had some love for him in his heart.

  
Since finding this cure Michael has not been back home, he wonders what they would think. His mother would be happy, maybe his father too. He would like to know what his mother looked like. Michael knew she had long hair, soft and thick. Her face was gentle and without any scars.

Upon seeing his own face Michael thinks he may look more like his father rather than his mother. Michael had an angled strong jaw, creamy coloured skin. There were surgical scars by his eyes, a product of doctors work back home.

  
They were no longer than an inch, badly sewn and slightly sucken. The texture of them was rough and puckered, it healed very poorly and stunk like festering almounds until they closed.

When Michael first looked at himself he did not think much, he had nothing to compare. His mother called him handsome, but it was his mother and that was her duty to say such. Michael was also called the white hunter is some circles.

He found it odd until the plain doll told him he was the odd one for having white hair and eyes without any colour. Michael was surprised by this, but then. He never did see another person quite like him.

Most hunters were something like him, ill, damaged or ruined in some way. Many wouldn’t talk about what caused them to come here, but Michael’s reason was obvious if anyone looked.

Along with the scars by his eyes he had four little ones by his ears, behind and on his sideburns. Another failed effort from doctors. The metal pins didn’t even rouse the slightest sound and only served to disappoint him further.

Others had scars, others had deformities. Some were horrible, some were ugly. But they were all healing by the more and more blood they would consume.

  
Michael saw no improvement upon his facial scars, but did well with the reminder. He wore glasses with fake lenses so the attention would draw away but he was not ashamed.

  
Michael was no vain man nor was he shamed. Of everything he was, Michael was fine. Becoming a great one changed nothing, it made his body strong and strange. Smoke would billow around him like black wind and the whispers were nearly understandable, if there were any at all.

Michael was told he was a well built man, the hunt has made him better and stronger, he always considered himself clever but after all he has seen here, killed and completed he has risen to new heights and understanding.

Michael was not a prideful man but he held himself as if he was that pompous, his voice was rough and quiet from years without use and strange, mostly to himself. Sometimes he would be so confused with his voice that he wondered who was talking, at this the doll would laugh in a sweet way and touch his arm in comfort. What Michael liked most was hearing others talk. While he was sharpening his new senses the others were beaten brutally.

Michael could smell everything, the stench of blood and plague. He could never get used to it and often found himself wanting to heave at the very whiff of anything too vile. Touching worse sometimes. If he ever had to feel matted fur or slimy bulges it made him shiver in disgust. That was a nightmare in itself.

  
A clack sound came from the other rooftop and Michael cracks his eye open, curious as to what it was. For a moment he thought a bird had found its rest there, but as he tilted his head Michael found another hunter crouching against the moon light, peering over the stone floor path with squinted, critical eyes.

It was a man by the shape and size, a smaller man then Michael. One that could almost pass for a women if not for the broader shoulders. Michael allowed himself to assume as much and just about put and end too his curiosity, until the other glanced over and eyes him with careful suspicion.

  
“People are forgetting to use incense.” He says in a soft, light voice. Yes, Michael was right. It was a man. One of very small stature, but that just made Michael assume he was quick and deadly. He carried the blades of mercy and wore dark colours. Yes. He was very fast.

What he said didn’t surprise Michael, merely disappointed him. Those who forgot became the beasts he would hunt the next night. Unfortunate but it wasn’t his duty to babysit those foolish enough to forgo this precaution.

“Have any come out yet?” Michael shrugs, than shakes his head. The other hunter adjusts his legs, crouching on his knee before nodding.

“Do you mind if I wait with you?” Michael was terrible company, but nodded anyway.

  
The other hunter keeps staring at him, but Michael is used to such a thing and pays no mind until he speaks again. “You are the great hunter- aren’t you?” Michael feels a pinch of irritation, but again nods his head.

“I didn’t want to assume- I thought so... most hunters don’t have... smoke coming out of them.” Michael snorts lightly, peering around himself. When he moved it was hardly noticeable, but as he sat and stew it became quite the fog.

“I’m Asher by the way,” he gave a faint nervous smile. Michael turns his head to look and blinks.

Nothing is said again thereafter.

Michael had gutted out the collage of Byrgenwerth and heavily reinforced the gates with runes and magic, killed off all the flies and strange beasts- he even managed to fix the lake. While the dream was a good enough place for hunters to come and go, it was not good for them to stay. Michael found the collage was best suited to live in because it was mostly out of the way and rather small.

It was perfect for his needs all around. The water was pure and drinkable and the land was fertile. Michael liked it best because it easily housed his pets.

The roost has many owls and fowl, he would feed them with grain and the owls kept mice away. His dogs would keep him company and were excellent at warning for danger, not that there was any and his cats kept the house clean of smaller vermin.

His seeing dog, Chief was his best companion. The Shepard was young and new to his duties, Michael had only gotten him a year before his journey to Yharnam, but he was sweet and happy. Always excited when Michael came home. The plain doll loved him very much and Michael often brought him to the dream before going off to hunt. She spoiled him with treats but Michael didn’t mind.

Pepper was his first dog and he was getting older, teaching the little one begrudgingly. Micheal had thought he would pass away, but Yharnam did something strange to all its visitors and Pepper had never looked better. The old retriever was getting his golden colour back, his energy was that of a young pups and he wouldn’t keep still half the time.

  
Michael was glad for it.

  
Michael also gave a home to many different cats, though none of them were his own. Awkwardly they just showed up, he fed them of course but had no names for any. There was one short haired and white cat Michael thought he may name, but decided to wait and see. Usually the cats would come and go, maybe come and sleep with Michael when he laid down for the night, but most were irregular. Michael decided not to get attached just yet.

  
Days pass at a slow easy pace before Michael sees the hunter named Asher again. Since the doll gained a body of her own Michael felt responsible too visit and care for her. While in between teaching her basic living he dropped off some food from his garden. The doll loved apples the most.

So today he was there, giving her apples and helping her water the planets and there the hunter was.

Asher was bloody, Michael smelt him before he saw him. The wet sheen was clear in his black coat, his blades shiny and slick. “Great hunter,” the doll bows in apology, “Evetta.” Michael bows back.

The duty of her still stood, she must help hunters kindle their power. Michael stands by the tree, waits and watches. The process was eerily beautiful, the red cloud series around their joined hands and they come away after moments. Then the hunter sees him.

Michael tilts his head curiously as the other tenses awkwardly and blushes, he was covered in blood but Michael could still see the ruddy colour across his nose and cheeks. His face was handsome, unspoiled by any scars and under splashesof blood and blush Michael could detect dusty freckles. Under the cap he wore was soft shelled blond hair, almost white like Michael’s own, but still brightened by gold tint.

The eyes that stared at his own were a bright almost orange like amber, a totally beautiful and strange shade.

  
Asher fidgets, causing Michael to snap out of his inspection and look away. “Afternoon, great hunter.” Michael always hated how every hunter addresses him as a superior, says his name with respect. Michael wasn’t due any of it, he was not so great as they all believed.

Still he nods again, crossing his arms and leaning his weight into the meat of the apple tree. They had only just planted it months ago and yet it already looked aged and thick. It seemed things were very different in the dream, mlreso than Michael ever thought.

  
“Is that all you wish good hunter?” Evetta asks kindly, smiling as usual. Asher nods dumbly, Evetta hums and returns to Michael. “As you were- great hunter?” Michael was helping her pick the apples, showing her how to twist them just right so they would snap off and sharing all his secrets.

Now he felt too awkward to speak and simply goes about picking silently. Evetta doesn’t notice, hardly bothered by his sudden tight lip.

Asher peaks over the stones, watching with curious almost longing eyes. “You’ve planted this, mistress?” He calls, watching her pick the apples like Michael showed her.

“With help good hunter.” She hums pleasantly, Asher tentatively approached. His feet were bloody and black, but he left no trace not even indents in the grass as he came over. “Whose help?” He inquires, staring up st the branches.

“Why Michael’s of course,” she laughs, smilingly brightly. Asher frowns, “Michael?” Evetta nudges her head in the direction Michael stood and Asher follows the line, shocked and showing it.

  
Michael simply looks at him over the bridge of his glasses, brow cocked in question. “Oh I didn’t know your name was... you like gardening?” Michael simply nods, too both his questions. Yes, his name was in fact Michael and he did enjoy gardening.


	2. Michael dabbles 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original male character/original male character

Michael did not spend time getting to know people, he found the venture pointless and painful. Wasted energy, especially so if it was another hunter. Michael came across so many when he visited Evetta and met many in passing. 

 

Those hunters never spared him a glance, too those that did were a mix of shock, awe or hatred. Shock he assumes from his outward appearance, awe because they childishly admired him and hatred for many reasons. Jealousy, envy, disgust. 

 

Michael wasn’t very good at reading facial expressions yet. 

 

Evetta wasn’t truly a friend either, maybe she might be if Michael let himself attach. The Doll was a sweet women he would spend small amounts of time with, through duty more than companionship. Hunters had no time to spare in the dream, they would collect their things and increase their power and leave poor Evetta lonely. 

 

Michael did not spend his time hunting and fighting, that time was over. Most hunters did not like the dream and spared little time here, Michael found it endearing, it had no strong smells or loud noises and so he made it a habit to see lonely Evetta and tried to make her less so. 

 

Evetta was kind in her nature, voice soft and eyes dewy, Michael got along with her well because she, like him did not waste words on meaningless things. 

 

 

Michael sits behind her, hat drawn over his eyes and glasses falling off his nose. Evetta stood in her usual spot, it was midday and peak time for hunters to come by. Even though Michael did not like the attention he still sat motionlessly on the stone, hiding his discomfort when a hunters gaze lingered too long. Michael could feel when they looked, some glanced, some stared- some even tried to talk to him, Evetta would claim he was sleeping so he wouldn’t have to respond.

 

Maybe a friend after all.

 

 

Michael despite being uncomfortable stayed beside her because she enjoyed his company. 

 

There was a lull in passing hunters, even though the Doll could easily stand for hours at a time, Evetta could not. Michael heard her heels scrap the rock and the whoosh of her dress and she sat down, delicately sighing. 

 

 

A moment passes before she speaks, “hunters seem drawn to the catacombs, why do you think that is great hunter?” Evetta was still naïve, it was charming and innocent. Michael shifts, blinking open his eyes. “Boredom,” he mutters simply and the truth in the matter was just that. Hunters had grown bored with saving villagers from stray beasts, Michael had killed any reliable threat long before, but he rarely bothered with the underbelly. 

 

Michael did not like the smell or darkness below them. He barely managed to stomach the few times he did go, only to kill the Queen and finally end the crying. 

 

Evetta awes at his words, thinking them so wise instead of plain “wouldn’t that become boring too?” To Michael it had long ago, “darkness breeds Evetta.” The catacombs were the only challenge Michael left untouched, the only thing left for hunters. Michael heard stories of hunters cleaning those dank halls and caves out one day and upon returning they were full of beasts and bog monsters again. 

 

Michael put no effort into understanding it, somehow it must hold some truth if they kept going back. 

 

Michael was at least glad someone else was cleaning up the mess, if not them then it was him.

 

“What if one day something besides a hunter escapes the ruins?” Michael had pondered this question many times, dangerous things were down in those halls, wraiths and witches that were smarter than any beast. Another reason so many hunters went back, Michael had stolen all the glory and they wished to have their own, some returned victorious and full of stories, others woke up and begrudgingly went back. 

 

“I will find it and I will finish it.” Michael did not like incompetence or stupidity. Lately  it’s ran rampant among hunters, angry at him and having to prove something. It was exhausting and more often then not caused mistakes and a single mistake could cause great trouble. 

 

Evetta looks back and smiles at the smoke “I know.” 

 

Evetta tried talking about other things, the state of the collage and his pets, Michael told her a cat -he knew not which- had given birth under his staircase. Evetta was enchanted and Michael had four babies too look after. 

 

That he hardly minded however.

 

 

Just as Michael was feeling comfortable again the eerie noise of a hunter returning invaded their ears. Evetta was used to the sound but Michael winces, disliking the shiver that passed.

 

 

“Good evening good hunter,” Evetta hops off the rock perch and bows. Michael tucks his foot close to his body and the other is propped up for his arm to dangle off of. 

 

Michael would not have spared more than a glance if not for who the hunter was. For a third time the scrawny hunter is standing there, blood dotting his coat and drenching his boots. The other- Asher?- blinks in surprise upon seeing him, but says nothing. 

 

The blades at his belt hung wetly, blood dripping off them, Michael watches him trip toward the doll, face flaming. Michael blinks, considering this hunter again. 

 

The boy was clumsy, nervous and young looking. Michael was by no means old, but the bright eyes and unguarded emotion told Michael Asher was younger than him. 

 

Michael did not have to be good at reading emotions to know that. 

 

“How goes the hunt, good hunter?” Evetta asks, performing her ritual. From the brim of his glasses Michael can see the other figdet “b-boring mistress,” he sputters, Evetta tilts her head curiously “I thought it was to be believed the catacombs weren’t so boring?” Michael suppressed a snort, but rolls his eyes. 

 

“O-oh,” Asher’s mutters, licking his lips in habit “I... I wouldn’t know,” he says, than adds “I’ve never been down there.” Michael blinks, now that was a first. 

 

Evetta, oh so helpful Evetta asks “you haven't? What have you been doing?” Asher glances at Michael, who holds his gaze. If he didn’t know any better, Asher was nervous because of him. 

 

“Just- just... watching the streets.” Michael doesn’t even do that anymore. “You have? How good of you!” And she meant it. Asher turns pink and looks at his feet “it’s my... my duty is all...” Evetta pats his arm, “thank you still!”

 

There was an awkward pause between them, Asher looked a little lost when the doll turns her attention away. Michael doesn’t dwell on it too long. 

 

“How goes your research great hunter?” Evetta goes right back into their dropped conversation, Michael’s lip tugs at the mention “poorly,” Evetta coos, “but there is much left to read, yes?” The collage was vast and full of ramblings, some had truth and other had guesses. 

 

Michael shrugs, “I suppose- not all of it makes sense.” Evetta giggles, shaking her head “great ones are mysterious in nature.” 

 

 

“Great ones?” Michael almost forgot the other hunter was there. Thankfully, Evetta responds “yes! Great hunter is studying them.” Asher frowns in confusion, “what for? Aren’t they all dead now?” Maybe he was a lot younger than Michael had given him credit for. “What’s there to learn?” 

 

Evetta laughs, “all but one,” Asher glares, “that’s not... it’s true?” Suddenly his face is wide and uncertain “I thought- those were... he’s really a great one?” 

 

Evetta nods along to his words, amused by his fumbling “yes good hunter.” 

 

“I thought... I thought he just killed them- not that... he was one.” Michael did not think there was difference. Asher seems shocked by the news, “is that... why your studying them?” Michael nods, finding his voice lacking “do you want to find others like you?” 

 

“There are no others like me.” 

 

Asher flintches at the tone. 

 

Michael’s research was an attempt to find something similar, something to explain his situation, so far he had found nothing but frustration. Though nothing had changed Michael was worried his mind would warp from the strange powers he now possessed, much like many great ones before him. The yawning difference was they were already great ones, whereas Michael was given the power. 

 

“That’s... that’s good though- isn’t it?” Michael blinks, Asher wrings his hands, “they were all evil a-and you stoped them...” Michael had never saw it that way before. 

 

Different because he was good where they were evil. What a unique perspective. 

 

“You spend your time hunting beasts, why?” Michael says, curious. Asher gulps, “because it’s the good thing to do.” 

 

 

“Yes. Yes it is.”

 

 


End file.
